Fifteen Going on Seven
by That70sshowlova
Summary: Taking pity on Neville, Harry switches potions homework with him. When Snape finds out, he forces Harry to drink the potion and Harry immediately breaks into a sweat. The next day, he wakes up...not quite himself, and Hermione's left to care for him.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm one hundred percent American so if any of the characters sound distinctly off, well, sorry. Also, this is fifth year, but lets pretend Voldemort's is on vacation for the time being.

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><p>"Oh no," Neville moaned. "Oh, no, oh no, oh no!" His potion, which should have been a dark blue, was a bright yellow. "He's going to <em>kill<em> me."

"Are you all right, Neville?" Harry asked.

Neville shook his head, looking sick. "I messed up the homework Professor Snape gave us."

Harry's eyes flashed with concern when he noticed how green his fellow Gryffindor was turning. That surely couldn't be good, could it? An idea struck Harry as the color from Neville's cheeks drained, to a near white. Merlin, he looked almost as pale as one of Hogwarts' ghosts!

"Take mine," Harry said suddenly. He heaved his cauldron on the Gryffindor common room's table. "Well, go on, take it."

Neville gaped at me. "No, Harry, I couldn't."

Harry couldn't bear to watch Snape tease Neville again in class. Last class he threatened to make Neville drink the next potion he screwed up. He wasn't having that. Neville looked like he was going to pass out. It was the least he could do for the guy.

"Take it," Harry repeated. "and I'll take yours." Harry didn't wait for an answer, but instead, took the cauldron from the boy's hands and promptly left.

"Thank you," Neville croaked. He picked up Harry's cauldron and hurried after him, not wanting to know what Snape would do to him if he were late.

"Good, Goyle. Excellent, Draco, excellent," Snape murmured to his Slytherin students as he looked at their cauldrons. "

"Mm, yes, hello Mr. Longbottom. What _ghastly_ potion do you have for us today?" He peered down into the cauldron and cocked one eyebrow. "Very good, Longbottom. Five points to Gryffindor." He seemed almost reluctant to grant such a thing, but a smirk slithered its way onto his face when he saw Neville pale and shaking.

He didn't bother to check Hermione's, but instead, crossed tables and glanced at Ron's, before setting his gaze on Harry. "Mr. Potter," he acknowledged. He let out a low chuckle. "Yellow, Potter? _Yellow_? What could you have possibly _done _to this potion to turn it _yellow_?" His eyes flickered over to Neville and then back to Harry. "I see. Well, Potter, if you want to be the hero, then so be it. You will take the punishment that Longbottom would have received if he turned it in. Well, go on, drink it." He took the ladle and fished out a portion of yellow liquid.

"Are you _mad_?" Hermione demanded. "That's dangerous! You have no idea what the potion could possibly do to him!"

Snape didn't look away from Harry when he snapped, in an almost pleased way, "Five points from speaking out of turn, Ms. Granger. Go on, Potter."

Neville looked sick. He wanted to take Harry's place, just as Harry did for him, but when he tried to stand up, the fear of what Snape would do to him nearly made his legs collapse out from under him. "I'm sorry, Harry," Neville moaned to himself as he slumped in his seat and covered his eyes.

The distinctive laugh of Draco and his minions in the background had Harry angry, but it was Snape's smirk that had him positively seething with rage. He forcefully yanked the ladle out of his professor's grip and downed the sunny liquid in one gulp. Harry almost gagged it back up. He imagined it tasted the same as dirty socks did.

"Harry, no!" Hermione screamed.

"Speak out of turn again, Ms. Granger, and you'll be drinking the potion right after Potter."

"You wouldn't _dare_!" Hermione said.

He turned around and glared at her. "Try me."

She visibly flinched, but nonetheless, ran to Harry and pulled him into her arms. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "I'm f-fine."

She pressed her palm to his forehead. "You're burning up, Harry." She wiped her hand on her school robes. "Not to mention sweating. We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted.

"You aren't looking so good, Harry," Ron said.

"You three, out!" Snape snapped. "I will not tolerate you interrupting the learning for the students who actually _want _to."

If Harry hadn't been so sick, he would have snorted when Snape motioned towards Draco and the rest of the Slytherins. Now, don't get him wrong. Not all Slytherins are bad, but most of them hated Harry just as much as Draco did and showed it. Most of the kids in Potions sucked up to Snape and mocked Harry when his back was turned. Luckily, Ron managed to snort for him. Harry weakly smiled.

"Lets go, Harry," Hermione murmured. She wrapped his arm around her neck and she grabbed his waist. She motions for Ron to do the same.

"I can walk on my own," Harry protested as the doors to the classroom closed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you can. Stop being so stubborn, Harry, and just let us help you!"

He grumbled something unintelligible and promptly passed out.

"It's not use, he's dead weight!" Hermione said. "Ron, why don't you sling him over your shoulder. You must have _some _muscle from playing on your stupid broom all the time."

Ron was to afraid to be insulted. "_Carry _him?" He gulped.

Hermione huffed. "You're useless!"

"I am not!"

"Hold him!" Hermione ordered and thrust their best friend into Ron's arms. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" Harry levitated in the air and Hermione motioned with her wand, guiding Harry through the air.

Madame Pomfrey looked at Harry when he floated in the room and motioned towards the bed to Hermione. She gently let go of Harry and laid him onto the bed.

"What happened?"

"He swapped potions with Neville Longbottom so he wouldn't get in trouble with Professor Snape, but Professor Snape found out and made Harry drink the potion on purpose."

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "I've no clue what that boy could have done to the potion, so it's best if we let it play out and show signs, then I'll reverse it."

Hermione nodded, as if agreeing that was the best thing to do. Ron, realizing what Hermione had said earlier, and then remembering he should be mad, and then realizing he _was _angry, rolled his eyes in irritation at Hermione's know-it-all tendencies. He had no clue why Harry befriended her first year. It was a wonder why Harry was still friends with her.

"Well, I'm leaving. Tell me when Harry feels better," Ron said. He didn't feel like staying in the same room with Hermione. He couldn't believe what she said earlier. 'Y_our _stupid_ broom.'_ Can you _believe_ her? His _broom_? _Stupid_? It was one of the most important things in Quidditch. It was one of the main components to winning, and she declared it stupid! He huffed as he left, not waiting for a response.

"_I'm _not," Hermione said stubbornly. "I want to know when Harry wakes up." She grabbed his hand, as if that would anchor her to the room and make Madame Pomfrey unable to do anything regarding to her whereabouts.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head and went to tend to another student.

During the time that Hermione sat at Harry's side, she finished all her homework and began to study sections ahead of her classes. She skipped dinner, but that was okay, because she wasn't hungry anyway. Her eyes didn't stray from Harry's face, but some time that night, her eyelids grew heavy. She woke herself up when she nearly fell asleep. That was funny, was Harry's face always that round? She must have been tired. Maybe she should go to bed. No, no, she couldn't. What if Harry woke up? His glasses looked a little big on his face, she noticed the next time she snapped herself awake. The third time, she wondered if his hair looked longer. Wow, she must be very tired.

Before long, Hermione's head was resting against Harry's chest and she was snoring softly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I was absolutely _overwhelmed _and flattered by the response I got for one chapter. Eighteen favorites, twenty-eight alerts and seven reviews. You guys rock. Forgive my mistakes, I've only read up to the fourth book. Also, I realize that the students at Hogwarts wear robes, but I prefer the movie adaption.

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><p>"Ouch," he whimpered. He shifted uneasily under the stranger's heavy head. Where was he? More importantly, how was he going to get this woman's head off his chest. He prodded her wild, curly hair with his finger. His touch was feather-light, hesitant. What if Uncle Vernon found him this way, poking a girl's head? Would he yell at him for being rude? He didn't want to find out. He poked again, his fingers being more forceful. When she still didn't wake up, he frowned and shifted on the bed again. "E-Excuse me, miss, could you please move your head? It's very heavy and it's starting to get uncomfortable."<p>

She didn't answer, but snored softly.

"Miss?" Harry repeated. "Please, could you..." He sighed. She wasn't answering. What was he to do? He took his tiny hands and braced them against the crown of the stranger's head. Her hair was rather soft, he noticed, but didn't dwell on the thought, however, he made a mental note to ask what conditioner she used. He used all the force in his skinny arms and pushed her head away with all his might.

"Bloody hell!" She yelped as her neck hit roughly against the back of the chair. She rubbed the back of her neck and then scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Once her eyes dilated and she was thoroughly awake, she stared at Harry.

"Hello," Harry greeted. He adjusted the glasses on his nose when they slipped down the bridge. He blinked and took his glasses off, stared at them with blurry vision, and then put them back on. He put his finger to his glasses and held them there. "Did you do something to my glasses?"

Hermione leaned over the bed and stared into Harry's eyes. "Harry? Is that you?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How do you know my name?"

She blinked at him before leaning back and pushing her chair away from the bed. She stood up and ran out of the room, screaming: "Madame Pomfrey!"

Harry pushed himself up by his elbow and tried to watch her, but she was out of his line of sight. He crawled off the bed and fell on his face. He groaned and stood up. His glasses were spared, thank God. He looked down to see what caused his tripping and yelped: "My trousers!" His trousers were pooled at the bottom of his ankles. He looked around the room to make sure no one saw that, and hurriedly pulled his trousers up, only for them to fall to his feet again. That was when he noticed his blazer reaching his knees. How peculiar. He pulled his trousers up, and held them there, only for his glasses to slide down the bridge of his nose. He took his right hand away from his waist to hold his glasses to his face.

Once _that _predicament was solved, Harry walked out of the room into a strange hallway. Where was he? He inched his way across the floor, you see, his shoes were rather large and hard to walk in. Speaking of shoes, whose were these? They were many sizes too big, which wasn't that abnormal, but they were much too fine to be _his_. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always gave Harry his older cousin's clothes. His cousin, Dudley, was rather large. Well, that was an understatement. He was _huge_. Harry, on the other hand, had always been on the small side. The clothes he had always worn never fit him, but he could cut his shirts to size and he usually had a belt to hold his trousers to his waist. Dudley's shoes were usually a size larger, but never like this.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry called. "Aunt Petunia?...Dudley?..._Any_body?" Harry vaguely wondered if he should find the soft-haired stranger, but he was, frankly, quite scared of her. He wakes up to her crushing his chest with her ridiculously heavy head, then she stares at him for an uncomfortable amount of time with the most peculiar expression (honestly, he was about to break into a sweat), then she abruptly runs from the room, screaming. Yes, perhaps he should forgo looking for her.

Harry walked down the hall and up a flight of stairs, and then another. Wondering aimlessly, honestly. Where was he to go? Just as he got off a staircase, the stairs started to shift until they swung around completely and connected with a different landing. Harry gaped for a few moments before firmly closing his jaw. Why did these things always happen to _him_? Strange things always happened around Harry and whenever they did, Uncle Vernon yelled at him, like it was his fault. Well, maybe he shouldn't be trying to find his uncle then. He would surely find out about the moving of the staircase and blame it all on him. It was unfair!

Harry sighed and shook it out of his head, then continued on his way. He stopped at a random door and stood on his tippy toes to look in the window. Harry hesitantly knocked on the heavy door, hurting his knuckles. The noise level didn't quiet down any inside the room, so Harry decided to open the door. He pushed with all his might and managed to open the door a smidge, but it quickly closed shut with a quiet wooshing noise. He pushed again, using all the muscles (which weren't many) in his skinny, gangly arms and the door opened wider. He quickly squeezed through the crack before it closed and observed the room.

It was a large room, but what was in the room was more important. To Harry it seemed, a million kids, all older than him, stood in the room, shouting a language that he didn't understand. Some words would meet his ears, familiar words, but most were just jibberish to him. All of the kids had sticks with them, as well. They were swinging the sticks in the air, shouting the words with no repercussions. Harry walked up the aisle unnoticed.

Harry stopped at a very tall figure. He looked up, stretching his neck. An elderly woman stood in front of him, dressed in robes (which Harry found curious) and a pointed hat (another thing Harry wondered about).

"Hello," Harry greeted nervously. She was very tall, towering over Harry's skinny form, and she seemed to radiate something...powerful, ancient, intelligent... "Do you know where I am?"

Professor McGonagall looked down at the boy, who was almost an exact copy of a boy she was (re)introduced to five years prior. This one was shorter, skinnier, _younger_. Perhaps more skitterish as well. She looked down at him, surely her old age wasn't affecting her now. "Harry?"

Harry blinked. "You know my name as well? Well, yes, I _am_ Harry. Now, could you please tell me where I am?"

Professor McGonagall was suddenly aware of her students quieting down and unabashedly listening onto their conversation. She looked back at them, barking, "Back to work!" She looked back at Harry with a gentler face, offering her hand. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

Harry took it, and she guided him out of the room and started down the hall.

"Harry!" a voice shouted. "Harry!"

The two stopped and looked ahead of them, where a curly-haired blur was running up the hall. "Harry!" She stopped next to them and knelt down next to Harry. "Harry, why did you leave the hospital wing? That was a very dangerous thing to do in a foreign place."

Harry stared back at her, a little surprised and slightly angry. Who was she to reprehend him? But, she had a point, he supposed. "I was looking for my uncle Vernon. He will be angry if he doesn't know where I am. He...worries about me." Harry almost snorted. More like worried about what people thought of him and how that reflected on himself.

Hermione didn't suppress her snort. "Trust me, Harry, you're fine just here. Your uncle isn't to worry, he knows exactly where you are. Now, come, we have to go to Madame Pomfrey." She stood up and took Harry's hand in hers, causing Harry to drop the professor's. "Excuse us, Professor McGonagall, but Madame Pomfrey should have this cured in a second flat!"

Professor McGonagall placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder to keep her from leaving. "Ms. Granger, I entrust that you have this handled," Hermione beamed as if it were a compliment, "but I feel as if I should report this to Professor Dumbledore, nonetheless."

Hermione nodded. "Of course, Professor."

McGonagall let go of her shoulder and bid them goodbye before briskly walking off.

Hermione smiled down at her best friend. "It'll be okay, Harry, we'll get you fixed up in no time. There's nothing Madame Pomfrey can't fix."

Harry's hand felt comfortable in her own, he noticed. Which was odd, didn't girl's have cooties? "Ms. Granger how come you know me, but I don't know you?"

Hermione giggled at her title. "You know me Harry, it's just that your memories...You know what? I'll explain all of this when we get to Madame Pomfrey's. Better yet, she should have the remedy done in no time, I won't even have to. Anyway, I'm your best friend, Harry."

Harry gazed at her in wonder. "Friend? I have a friend?"

Hermione looked at him sadly. "Yes, you _do_, Harry. You best remember that. I'm Hermione, by the way."

He squeezed her hand. "Harry."

Hermione smiled. When they arrived at the hospital wing, they found Madame Pomfrey holding Neville Longbottom by his collar and shaking him vigorously. Well, not quite. See, she was a witch, she used her wand to do it instead. And people think Americans are lazy. Jeesh! Can't even properly bully the answers out of a kid these days without using magic. Madame Pomfrey casually sipped some coffee while waving her wand back and forth, lazily.

"Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione shrieked. "_Expelliarmus_!" The wand flew out of the mediwitch's fingertips and landed across the floor. "Neville, are you all right?"

Neville nodded, smiling weakly. "M-Madame Pomfrey, as I was saying, I—I may have used a little too many yucca—I—I don't know! And I may have forgotten to put the pennyroyal in because it grossed me out too much, and I may have forgotten how many alder buckthorn went in there, so I may have _possibly_, maybe, I can't _quite _remember—"

"Spit it out!" Madame Pomfrey snapped, setting her mug down and standing up. "You incompetent, stupid, little—"

"Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted. "Honestly, what is wrong with you? Can't you see he's upset?"

"Can't you see he's upset?" she mocked. "You were making an aging potion and because of Mr. Longbottom and his brilliant potion making, the effects reversed and made Mr. Potter younger."

"Oh no!" Hermione groaned. "What will we do?"

Harry looked at them. Obviously, they must be crazy. But, for some reason, he felt comfortable around this sort of talk. Crazy things had always happened around him, so how was this any different? If anything, sticks that made things knock out of other people's hands and potions should help _explain _things.

"Well, why don't you just make another aging potion, the right one, this time?" Harry suggested.

They all looked at Harry and he started to blush.

"You just got schooled by a seven-year-old," a voice coughed from another bed.

Madame Pomfrey scowled and ordered, "Shut up and be sick!" She cleared her throat. "Well, yes...Ms. Granger, could you please find the potion directions and get on with it!"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no, I can't do that. I have to take care of Harry. He doesn't know anything about anything anymore!"

"Well _I _certainly can't," Madame Pomfrey said importantly. "_I _have work to do because _I _have a job and people _rely _on me."

"Who are you? Percy Weasley?" the voice from the bed questioned.

Pomfrey and Hermione looked over at Neville in unison, who gulped nervously.

"Longbottom."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I apologize for this going into crack territory. I haven't written Harry Potter before (One one-shot, but does that really count?) so I'm not accustomed on how to write humor for this fandom, so it's going to be a little hay-wire. Sorry. Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Dear Lady Cougar-Trombone: You don't accept private messages, so I decided to reply to your review in a short author's note. Well, of course I _plan _to read the rest of the books, I've just heard the last three suck, so I haven't gotten around to it.

So, I feel as if I should warn you. This is basically crack humor by now, but with better grammar.

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><p>They must be mad, Harry thought idly. The boy messed up the potion the first time, horrendously, so who's to say he would do any better the second?<p>

"Surely there must be another reliable person around here," Harry said to them.

Neville wept tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Harry. Yes, please find someone else!"

Madame Pomfrey glared at the two male students. "Shush, you two. Harry, go run off with Hermione while I beat some sense into Neville, here."

"Madame Pomfrey, _no_!" Hermione shouted. She grabbed the mediwitch's arm once the woman retrieved her wand. "Do you remember what happened last time?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "Yes, yes, I remember, Ms. Granger. Fine, well, Neville, you best be off fixing your mistake while I...do something important."

Neville all but ran from the room, his wand between his legs. Get it? Instead of his ta—oh never mind.

"Come along, Harry," Hermione said as she grasped her best friend's hand. "We have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore. He's powerful and all-knowing, he should know what to do."

"But didn't the wrinkly old woman we were talking to earlier go off to see him?" Harry asked.

"She is quite wrinkly, isn't she?" Hermione mused to herself. "Well, yes, she did, but I need to know what to do about _you_. Shall I take you to class, or lock you in the Gryffindor tower?"

An unpleasant picture came to Harry's mind. Heavy blond hair and a fire breathing dragon.

"I wouldn't look good as a blond," Harry told her.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I much like your black hair better, Harry."

"What happened to Madame Potpourri, back there, 'Mione?"

"First, it's _Pomfrey_, not potpourri. Potpourri is a mixture of dried, naturally fragrant plant material, used to provide a gentle natural scent in houses. It is usually placed in a decorative wooden bowl, or tied in small sachet made from sheer fabric, which Madame Pomfrey is _not_."

"What are you, Wikipedia?" Harry asked.

"I have no clue what that is, because this is the year _1995_," Hermione hissed.

"Oh, right," Harry said. "Me neither!"

"And second, last time Madame Pomfrey knocked some sense into a kid, lets just say it involved a sticking charm, chicken feathers, and a transvestite. _Not _pleasant."

After Hermione finished her shuddering fit, she stopped walking and turned to Harry pleasantly. "All right, sweet-cheeks, we're here!" Oddly enough, as soon as Hermione finished, the gargoyle shifted.

Harry openly gaped. He looked at his friend and squeezed her hand nervously. "Ready when you are, honey-bunches."

"Ooh, I love that cereal!" a jolly voice cheered. "Oh, wait, I mean...I have no clue what I'm talking about and just had an outer-body experience. Greetings, Harry, Hermione. Follow me."

Harry couldn't stop his jaw from hitting the floor, which was quite a predicament, let me tell _you_. Once they found the right charm to undo _that_, Harry squealed in delight. "Santa Claus!"

Professor Dumbledore stopped walking up the stairs to glare at the child before continuing to his office. He sat down in his chair with a groan. "Damn arthritis." He lifted his wand and sparks shot to his knees. He smiled brilliantly—because that's how he did everything. He did it _brilliantly_. "Much better!"

His eyes twinkled like a cluster of stars in the black night sky

Harry squealed delightedly and pointed towards Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Look, Hermione! A shooting star! Make a wish!" Harry clenched his eyes and rocked back and forth on his feet as if that would help the wish come true. Once Harry opened them, there was a faint _pop_ and Charlie Sheen appeared in the room.

"That's odd, that's not what I wished for," Harry said.

Hermione jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "Oh, Merlin!"

Dumbledore shook his head in disappointed. "An American, Ms. Granger, really? You could do better."

However, there was something _off _about this Charlie Sheen. He was significantly older. All wrinkles and grey hair. He didn't seem surprised at where he was, but instead, popped some pills and then smoked a cigarette.

"Winning!" Charlie screamed. He then started to foam at the mouth, seizured, and promptly died.

Once the body was disposed of, Dumbledore looked seriously at his two students. "Please, tell me how this happened."

Hermione launched into the story. Once finished, Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, appraisingly.

"Ah, yes, well, I'm sure Professor Snape didn't mean it! Now, who do you have working on a counter potion?"

"Neville Longbottom," Hermione informed.

Dumbledore nodded. "Smart choice. I think, for now, until the potion is finished, you should return to regular classes and re-introduce Harry to the wizardry world."

"Wizard?" Harry asked.

Hermione glared at the professor before taking Harry's hand and walking him out of the room, gently explaining what happened.

Dumbledore stood from his chair and looked into his mirror. He sucked in his gut and clenched his long beard in his hand. "I could stand to lose a few pounds, _sure_, but—"

Before his very eyes, the mirror image transformed into Santa Claus. Dumbledore shrieked and ran to hide under his deck.

Meanwhile, Hermione had led Harry to the Gryffindor common room while filling him in on the past five years of his life. She had performed a shrinking spell on his uniform to make sure he believed her. Harry, perched on the couch, gazed at his clothing and Hermione in wonder.

"It explains to much," Harry murmured. "I've never been...normal. My uncle Vernon, he always calls me a freak and always gets angry when I do...what did you call it? Accidental magic?"

She nodded in response to his question, but there was a look of sadness on her face. "He can't abuse you anymore. You're safe here."

"Abuse?"

"Yes, abuse. What he did to you wasn't good. But you're okay now, Harry."

Harry looked at her with all the seriousness a seven-year-old could muster. "I believe you."

She beamed. "Fantastic! Now, we best be going to class. I'm sure you want to learn all you can about magic, and next, we have Charms."

Hermione handed Harry his wand and pulled him to his feet. Once their hands were securely interlocked, they were off.

"Ms. Granger, you're la—" Professor Flitwick abruptly cut off, seeing the tiny black haired boy clutching her hand and half hiding behind Hermione's back. "And, uh, who is this?"

"Er..." Hermione thought for a moment. Should she tell the truth or lie? If she told the truth it would only attract more attention to Harry. Lying it was. "Harry Plopper."

"It's not Harry Plopper!" Harry protested. Hermione was about to slap him across the face. _Hello_? How could he not see that she was trying to save his arse here? "I'm Spider-Pig now."

They all ignored the future Simpson reference.

"Plopper?...Plopper, Plopper, Plopper..." Flitwick mused. "Why does that sound so familiar?...Oh well!" He decided to ignore the deja vu. "Why is Mr. Plopper here? He must be a first year."

"He got hit with a stunting growth spell," Hermione explained. "He's a transfer student...from America. He's fifteen."

"_He _can speak for himself," Harry said indignantly...in a girl-y voice.

Hermione winced and coughed uncomfortable before lowering her voice. "Poor Harry hasn't hit puberty yet."

"Unfortunately, you have," a voice said.

Hermione blushed as red as the stain on her skirt and the owner of the voice's hair color.

"Oh, no!" Harry squealed. "You're bleeding, Hermione!"

The next second, everyone was staring in a daze around the room as Hermione fixed her _completely _grey skirt.

"Ah, well, yes," Flitwick said. "Mr. Plopper, would you please take a seat next to Mr. Weasley? Mr. Potter seems to be absent today, so you may take his seat until his return. Now, class, today we will be learning the silencing charm. Now, repeat after me: _Silencio!"_

By the end of class, Harry was sitting out as the rest of the students practiced the charm and Professor Flitwick tried to find a counter spell to undo his mouth being puckered inside his head like a vortex.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Blimey_, you look _awfully _familiar, Harry Plopper," Colin Creevey said for millionth time during dinner. He didn't glance at his food once, but opted to gawk at Harry.

"Does _not_!" Hermione snapped.

"Does too," Ron chimed with his mouth full. Harry grimaced and wiped at his face when a splatter of mush landed on his face from Ron's mouth.

"Are you sure you're not related to Harry, Harry?" Colin asked.

Hermione glared at the younger Gryffindor. "That notion is ridiculous in itself! Honestly, Colin, use that measly—"

"'S okay, Hermione," Harry said as cheerfully as he could. Colin was getting on his nerves, but the boy was much older than him, and from experience with older boys, he'd crush him into a bloody pulp if he so much as looked at him wrong. "No, I have no clue who Harry Potter is."

"_What_?" a high-pitched voice shrieked. There was a flash of red and then a pale, freckly face stared at Harry in horror. Ginny crouched on the Great Hall table, her foot in a bowl of mashed potatoes, but she didn't mind her foot, or her shoes, as she continued to gape at Harry.

"Oh, _here_ we go," Ron groaned, chunks of chewed meat flying out of his mouth and hitting surrounding Gryffindor students.

"Harry _Potter_," Ginny said loudly, "Is not _only _the handsomest boy that has ever existed in the history of hotties, but he is also extremely famous and wealthy!"

Harry wasn't sure if he should be flattered or not.

"And what of his personality?" Hermione questioned.

Ginny paused. "Um...he's brave! Yeah! He defeated the Dark Lord when he was a baby! A _baby_! You can't get more fearless than that!'

"Ginny _fancies _him," Ron said loudly. Everyone in the whole school knew of this, even the professors, but Ginny still flushed as red as her hair and stumbled off the table in embarrassment.

"I do _not, _Ron!" Ginny cried. "He's a friend! You fancy Hermione! We all know it!"

People who were listening laughed at the ludicrousness of such a notion and Ron and Hermione scrunched their faces in disgust.

"You two fight all the time. It's obviously unresolved sexual tension," Ginny went on to explain. "It's the only explanation."

"It couldn't possibly be the fact that he's insufferable," Hermione muttered. She scrunched her face again when she glanced at Ron and saw him chomping on his food with his mouth wide open. "Not to mention the fact _disgusting_."

Ginny stomped her foot and stormed away in a huff.

"So." Colin steered the conversation back into its original direction. "Are you _sure _you're not a distant relative of Har—" Before he could finish, a streak of white soared across the table and struck Colin's head, promptly causing him to fall unconscious.

Hermione whistled innocently.

Meanwhile, there was a pile of chewed up food that landed on the table from Ron's mouth. Students nearby went to other tables. Ron looked around questioningly. "Anyone going to eat that?"

Later, Harry walked into his bedroom to find Hermione threatening Ron. In normal, Muggle circumstances, she would have held him against the wall by his collar, but you _see _this is the Wizarding World, so Hermione sat casually on Harry's bed, flipping the pages of a book, as her wand held Ron, upside down, by his ankle in mid air.

"Okay, okay, Hermione, I won't tell anyone!"

"Won't tell anyone what?" Harry asked, announcing his presence.

Hermione looked up and beamed. "There you are, Harry! Where'd you run off to?"

Ron fell onto the floor with a groan. "Oh God." He laid on his back before slowly sitting up and rubbing his head.

"I ran into Neville outside the common room. The potion's coming along nicely." He was lying, of course. Neville broke down into tears and begged Harry to cast the Killing Curse on him. It would be better than having to face the wrath of Hermione.

Speaking of which, she smiled at Harry. "That's wonderful, Harry! Neville will have you back in tip-top shape."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You avoided my question. Won't tell anyone what?"

Ron was able to answer that question. Through their brief conversation, he gathered his bearings. His blood was circulating in all of the right places and he was able to run to Harry, gawking as he did so.

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped as he fell onto his knees, getting eye-level with his best mate. "Harry? Is that really you?"

Harry looked back at Hermione uncertainly. She nodded and then Harry nodded to Ron. Ron proceeded to poke and prod Harry as if he were an alien.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember you," Harry managed to get out. Ron gripped both Harry's cheeks and stretched them out to the point where they hurt. He let go and then poked at the baby fat.

Ron blinked as the words processed in his brain. His hands fell to his sides. "You don't know who I am?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't."

Jealousy flashed in his eyes. "But you remember Hermione."

"Actually, I didn't."

Ron turned smug and smirked at Hermione. "Ha!"

She rolled her eyes. Hermione left later that night to finish homework and Ron kept Harry up most of the night to catch up all things Weasley. Harry re-learned the life of his best friend. At an ungodly hour, Harry started to nod off at the sound of Ron's voice. Eventually, he was passed out on his bed, Ron soon to follow.

Harry's nose twitched when he felt the featherlight tickle. Again, when it didn't go away. Finally, his hand came up to itch his nose, only to swat something fleshy.

Harry screamed.

Dumbledore hovered over Harry, his nose brushing his. "Take it back!"

"W-What back? Take what back?" Harry's voice quavered. His roommates were deep sleepers, because none of them so much as changed their breathing.

"I do _not _look like Santa Claus!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I apologize for the short, crappy update. I would like to continuously update on Sunday, and it occurred to me earlier that it was Sunday today and I was like, "Shit!" So, I wrote this down and it's not that good, but it's something!

Also, I did a little self insert there with the whole anti-Ron/Hermione thing. Ron's not my favorite character, but I tolerate him. I just _hate _him with Hermione. The idea of them together is stupid in itself. Oh, and I don't like Ginny. At all. How Harry and Ginny end up together is _beyond _me. She's his number one fangirl, that's it.


	5. Chapter 5

Neville's hand shook violently as he walked to the Gryffindor common room. His hand was gripping the vial so hard, he was afraid he might break it, but when he loosened it, the fear of the sweat on his hands making the potion slip was too costly. Neville stood in front of the portrait, angry that he actually remembered the password when he _really_ didn't want to. The portrait swung open and Neville walked in reluctantly. It closed, making him jump.

"Has anyone seen Hermione?" Neville asked, his voice quavering.

Fred Weasley, or was it George? Neville's mind was to distracted to distinguish between the two. "She's right there, Neville."

Neville inwardly cursed, hoping that no one would notice her. He walked up to her and set the potion on the table.

"Here you are, Hermione."

Hermione smiled brightly and hugged him quickly. "Thank you, Neville!" She picked up the potion and grimaced. "Merlin, Neville." She wiped the vial on her skirt, her face still scrunched in disgust. She quickly exited and Neville collapsed on the floor.

"What was that all about, Neville?" George, he _knew _it was George this time, asked.

"Hermione requested—" more like ordered, Neville thought. "my help with a potion."

Fred and George laughed loudly, simultaneously saying: "Good one!"

"I'm serious."

They blinked.

"Blimey, did you at least get the help from a Ravenclaw? Shite, _anybody_, really."

Neville stared blankly and his face slowly went red. He screamed angrily. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Explains why _you _aren't in Ravenclaw," George snickered.

Meanwhile, Hermione ran outside to meet Harry, who was playing with his re-acquainted broom.

"Harry!" she yelled. She didn't need to yell that loud, Harry wasn't up that high in the air. Harry came down quickly and Hermione handed him the potion happily. "Drink up."

"Is this _it_?" Harry asked. "Neville made it?" She nodded and Harry went slightly pale. "Will I have my memories?"

"I hope," Hermione said.

Harry hugged her swiftly. "You've been a great friend, Hermione. And so have you, Ron," Harry called up to the sky.

"Wait, what?" Ron asked as he landed.

"Neville made the potion," Harry explained.

Ron grinned. "Bottoms up, Harry!"

Harry looked at the potion nervously. "Here's to nothing." He tipped the bottom up and drank, he promptly fell to the ground and passed out.

Once again, Hermione sat by his side in the hospital wing, the only difference was the fact that Ron was on the other side.

"Merlin, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you ever stop eating?"

"Huh?" Ron asked around a mouth full of food, as if the concept of such a thing confused him. Crumbs of Lord only _knows _what fell out of his mouth and onto Harry. Ron grimaced. "Oh, sorry, mate." He brushed off the crumbs, hitting Hermione square in the face.

She screamed. "You insufferable, disgusting, pig!" She would have tackled him to the ground, but again, their wizards, so her wand sent him flying across the room and she repeated hex after hex.

They didn't notice him standing up. He looked around in confusion. Why would he be here of all places? His eyes drew to the commotion in the corner. He scratched his head. They looked _awfully _familiar, he just couldn't put his wand on it...

He let out a girly shriek and ran out of the room screaming.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** I'm very sorry for not updating on Sunday. My charger for my laptop broke and I didn't get a new one until yesterday. But no worries, I'll continue to update on Sunday. I hope this chapter explains the things that were confusing last chapter. I didn't really elaborate last chapter.

* * *

><p>Hermione dropped her wand and stepped back quickly. Her eyes shot to the door. "What was that?"<p>

Ron glared. "Maybe if you hadn't been harassing me, then we would have noticed that Harry left!"

"I was not harass—wait. Harry's gone?" She didn't wait for an answer and shot out of the room and down the hall.

Harry was suddenly tackled to the ground. He let out another loud shriek. "Rape! _Raaaaape_!"

"Harry, Harry, it's me, Hermione," Hermione said as she dug her knee in his back. "Stop screaming and look at me!"

"Get off my back, woman!"

Hermione squeaked indignantly. "Get off your back? That's rich! I don't nag, okay? I'm just simply—"

"That's not what I meant," Harry interrupted. "You're literally on my back and I can't breathe very well, can you please get off?"

"Oh." Hermione scrambled off his back and grimaced apologetically. She offered her hand but Harry was already down the hall and screaming his head off. "Harry James Potter, you get back here _right _now!"

"You don't fool me, Hermione-Imposter!"

Hermione sighed in frustration and pointed her wand at him. "_Immobulus_!" Harry froze and Hermione lugged him back to the hospital wing.

"Is it just me, or does he look different?" Ron asked Hermione when she brought him in.

Before Hermione could respond, there was a loud shriek and they both looked at Harry, but it wasn't him, he was still frozen.

Madame Pomfrey was staring at Harry, ghostly pale. "James _Potter_?" She ran up to Harry and prodded him with her finger.

"James?" Hermione asked and then roughly shook her head. "No, this is Harry."

Madame Pomfrey stopping smacking Harry long enough to looked over at Hermione. "How did this happen?"

"It was Neville," Ron said. "He did the potion wrong, _again. _Honestly, I think you should get a Ravenclaw to do a counter potion, or maybe—" His lip curled in disgust. "Professor Snape."

"Nonsense!" Madame Pomfrey trilled. "Harry's, uh, perfectly fine. He's the proper color and he's breathing. Neville did a fine job. He overshot Harry's age by a couple years, but oh well! I'm sure he can fix that in the next potion?"

"Are you raving mad?" an obscured student from the next bed over demanded. "You're going to have Neville make the potion again when he messed it up twice already?"

They all ignored him.

"Ron, we should take Harry up to his bedroom to explain things," Hermione said. "_Accio _invisibility cloak!"

"What was that for?" Ron asked.

"It'll be easier to sneak him up. Imagine all of the stares and questions we get when we carry a frozen version of an older Harry Potter."

Hermione draped the cloak over her friend and her and Ron walked him upstairs, only tripping over the cloak and tugging it off him three-point-five times.

"Where am I?" Harry demanded. "No, I know where I am, but _why_? Where's Ginny?"

Hermione stared at him, appalled, and incapable of answering. So Ron did for him.

"Neville ruined another potion and turned you older. I suppose you don't remember being here when you were _yay _high?" He held his hand near his waist.

"Ginny?" Hermione yelled. "Who the bloody hell gives a _damn _about Ginny Weasley?"

"Hey!" Ron protested. "That's my sister."

"Oh, _you _don't even like her, Ron," she snapped. He couldn't argue with that.

Harry blinked at her. "Ginny's my girlfriend."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"She's my girl—"

"I heard you, dammit! How _could _you? What's so special about her anyway? The fact that she looks like your mom? That's just creepy! _Creepy_!"

"Why do you care, Hermione?" Ron asked.

Hermione straightened her back and crossed her arms. "I don't."

That's when it dawned on him, which was a feat for Ron, let me tell _you_. Oblivious git. "Are you _jea—"_

"Shut your face, Ron!" Hermione yelled. She calmly looked at Harry. "Ginny's probably in class right now. I imagine you don't remember being here when you were seven, but that doesn't really matter. You drank a potion in Professor Snape's class that turned you into a seven-year-old. Neville created another potion to turn you fifteen again, but he over shot it, by, what? Twenty years?"

Harry squeaked, offended. "I'm twenty-two!"

"Could have fooled me."

Meanwhile, Ron was watching in amusement as Hermione barely concealed her jealousy. This was the funniest thing that happened, since, well, a couple days ago when Harry turned into a kid. Ron chomped on some popcorn, his eyes never leaving his two friends as he shoveled it in by the mouthful.

"What year are you?" Harry asked.

"Five."

Harry frowned. "Oh. Well, okay, then. You two should go to class. I'm going to go find Dumbledore. He can fix this." He grabbed his cloak and pulled it over his head. "I'll meet you here after dinner."

"You're lime-green jelly right now," Ron chortled.

"I don't even know what you mean right now, Ron, but I feel like smashing your freckly face in with a frying pan."

"Hostile," Ron said as he dropped his popcorn and put his buttery hand to his chest, wounded. "You're jealous, aren't you? You're angry that Harry is with Ginny and not you."

"Shut your face!" Hermione yelled.

"Make me!"

"I will!" She pulled out her wand and a frying pan bashed his face in. "Who's jealous now?"


	7. Chapter 7

Harry sat, slumped against the wall. He had tried every flavored bean he could remember, chocolate frog, chocolate wand, peppermint toad, and sugar quill. He even drifted towards Muggle candy.

"Hershey?" Harry tried again. "Nestle? Lemon drop? Reese's?...Ton-Tongue-Coffee?...What the hell do I need to say to get in here? Open Sesame?" Oddly enough, that was right and Harry toppled over with relief and surprise when the door groaned open and he saw the spiral stairs. He hopped on enthusiastically and opened Dumbledore's door.

Albus Dumbledore was found sitting in his chair upside down, wearing a blonde wig, a red slipper on his left foot and an orange heel on his right, singing along to a Wizard Oprah singer that sounded vaguely familiar.

Harry stood there awkwardly. "Bad time?"

"James?" Dumbledore gaped as he righted himself. "Bloody lemon drop! Pull on a wig, James. Would you like a slipper? I was just listening to some...ugh...I was just doing some paper work." He flicked his wand and the music turned off. He swished his wand in Harry's directing and a bubble gum pink curly wig fitted itself on Harry's head. He held out a jar of Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Jelly bean?" He held out a mix matched pair of slippers in the other. "Slipper?"

"I'm good," Harry declined. "It's Harry, Albus."

"Harry-Albus?" Dumbledore chortled. "What an odd na—Wait. _Hairy Albus_? How hurtful! I will have you know, I have a wonderful wax—"

Harry sighed. "No, you don't understand, I'm Harry."

Dumbledore furrowed his bushy eyebrows. "You're not that hairy. A little scruffy on the jaw, but it gives your character."

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. "I give up!" He stormed out of the room.

"James?" Dumbledore called. When he got no answer, he hesitantly adjusted his sitting position and waved the music back on.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat, fuming, in Transfiguration. She came in late, losing two points for her house. Ron didn't show up at all, a certain frying pan implanted in his face prevented him. Hermione waved her wand, but instead of the snail vanishing, it flew through the air and hit Lavender in the back of the head.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

Hermione didn't so much as blink, but summoned the snail back and tried to vanish it again.

"You all right, Hermione?" Neville asked. Hermione often sat with Neville because Harry usually sat with Ron. They would try to take turns who got to sit with who, but most often it was at random and when Hermione sat with neither, she instead sat with Neville.

"Not really, but lets not talk about it."

Neville choked back a sob. "I—I ruined t-the spell again, di-didn't I?" He cried loudly. "I'm sorry!" He collapsed to the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Longbottom!" McGonagall tried to snap, but it came out rather soft. She knelt down beside him. "Go see Pomfrey, Longbottom—because the greatest wizarding school in the world doesn't even have a bloody guidance counselor."

Neville looked at her in horror. "No! No! I'll stay here."

"Longbottom, you're not stable—"

He wiped his eyes frantically. "I'm stable!" He smiled. "See? Stable!"

She gave him a look but stood up. "If you say so. Granger, look after him, will you?"

She nodded once and pulled the red-faced boy up. "You did mess up the potion, but that doesn't matter. It was bound to happen. You're incompetent and we're morons for not realizing it sooner. I didn't want to bring any other authority figures into the mess. Just imagine the Daily Prophet getting a load of this. I'm going to go to Professor Snape. I should have gone to him in the first place, but, you know, Ron _and _Harry both would have killed me. Plus, really, he's the one who did it in the first place. But I'm sure I can convince him to help me."

Neville stared at her opened mouth. "Hermione, I—I don't know what to say. Actually, I do! _You can _convince _him? _Hermione, where did he touch you? Hermione, you're fifteen! You must realize that him touching you, without you permission, is _wrong! _We'll get an auror, he won't get away with thi—"

"What are you talking about, Neville?" Hermione snapped and her snail hit Lavender in the back of the head again.

"Ouch!"

"...What are _you _talking about?"

Hermione's face scrunched up in disgust. "Really, Neville? I wouldn't do that! I'm an insufferable know-it-all, remember? Plus, he's like a hundred. Lastly, he's my _professor! Merlin, _Neville!"

Neville opened and closed his mouth a couple times before closing it firmly and not saying anything else.

When Hermione left class, Harry yanked her to the side and she stumbled into him. She flushed and pulled back quickly. "How do you know what class I'm in?"

"I got the Gryffindor password from a student in the hallway then I got my schedule."

She _hmphed _and crossed her arms. "What do you want?"

"Was Dumbledore always that fruity?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione looked at him appraisingly. "You shouldn't talk about authority figures like that—and yes."

"Dumbledore's a nutter so I think I'm going to ask Minerva on how to fix this."

Hermione nodded stiffly. "That's probably a smart idea. I'm going to ask Professor Snape, if all else fails. I'm sure I can convince him."

"_Convince him_?" Harry shouted. "Hermione! No! You're so much better than that! He's a greasy git and y-you shouldn't sacrifice something like that f-for me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why did people keep assuming that's what she meant? She didn't tell him otherwise, though. "Why do you care what I do with him, anyway? You're dating _Ginny, _remember?"

"Maybe because Snape's an arsehole and he needs new shampoo, hell, just a shower in general!"

"Are you _jealous_?" Hermione asked, realizing that look on his face.

"Don't be stupid," Harry snapped. "Just...go to your next class, please, and don't do anything until I talk to you, okay?"

She huffed. "I'm not Ron, or you, for that matter. I am perfectly capable of determining when to not do something if it has bad consequences."

"I'm just making sure," Harry said. "You're a bit younger now than what I'm used to. You've aged a lot since...now."

"You have too. You're actually using common sense...barely." After that, Hermione abruptly left and Harry was stood there, confused. Was that a compliment?

Harry cleared his throat when he entered the Transfiguration room to catch her attention. "Minerva?"

McGonagall looked up from her desk, her eyes narrowed, but that was only for a second. Her jaw dropped and before Harry could protest that _No, he wasn't James _she snapped it shut and got up to walk towards him.

"Harry?" she asked and helped her self to touching his forehead, where his scar was. "What_ happened_?"

Harry sighed. "It's a very long, confusing story."

He went on to explain how he had this nightmare as a child where he was in a magical school accompanied by a bushy-haired girl and a freckle-faced boy. There was an old man with a beard than seemed to brush the floor who had a fear of Santa Claus and an older boy who was always crying about something or other. He went by the allias of Harry Plopper, which he didn't understand, but then, he wrote off as a dream.

"I locked myself in my dorm room and refused to talk to anyone until a I wrote off what happened. Everything was fine after that. And now, all of a sudden, I'm at Hogwarts where everyone looks younger...and I just...need your help."

She nodded slowly. "This happened by a potion, I recall. Well, rest assured, Potter, that was not a dream. It seems the potion has aged your physical appearance and your memories as well. I would suggest using a pensieve to extract Neville's memory of the potion, however, he's probably forgotten it already. I'll need to get back to you on this, Potter."

He nodded and sighed, said goodbye, and made his way to leave.

"Potter!" McGonagall called.

He turned around. "Yes, Professor?"

"Are you aware of the fact that you have pink hair?"

Harry looked at her, confused, until he remembered what had happened in Dumbledore's office and flushed three different shades of red. "I—It's a wig."

She returned to her desk and rifled through her papers. "It doesn't make it any less weird, Potter."


	8. Chapter 8

Harry hid inside on his bed underneath his invisibility cloak. Mind you, he's grown quite a bit since he was fourteen, and well...it didn't quite fit anymore. He was tucked in a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible to fit under the cloth.

Ron went mad when he saw the older Harry up close. "_You've gotten so hot—I mean, tall! Blimey, you're...uh...big—shite, that didn't come out right, did it? You're not big." he made awkward gestures towards his groin. "No, no, I'm sure you're a good si—oh, forget it." _He then went on to exclaim it was nice to see him, flushed a deep red at some perverted thought of how hot Harry had gotten, and scampered off.

Hermione, on the other hand, could talk to him without questioning her sexuality, but chose not to. When she did talk to him, they were short phrases with a biting tone. Harry didn't know why she was so upset that he was dating Ginny, but was too timid to ask. Hermione could be rather scary. Yes, she was small, but she was also a witch who knew every jinx under the sun and whom also collected a lot of hard covered books that could be whipped towards the head...or other very _sensitive _places.

Professor McGonagall still hadn't gotten back to Harry about giving him the proper potion. He didn't dare ask Dumbledore for help again. He'd rather not perform a memory charm on himself.

Harry stayed under his cloak until after dinner. Hermione and Ron would come up after dinner and smuggle him whatever they could from the Great Hall. They would keep him company, Hermione leaving when she was tired, and Ron staying up until he fell asleep sitting up. Of course, Harry was invisible, so Ron looked raving mad talking nonsense to himself. Harry would sneak off and get food from Dobby at night, and then rest. Then it would repeat the next day.

"Harry? You there?" Hermione whispered. Her tone wasn't as cold. If anything, she sounded determined...About what? He didn't know.

He pulled back the curtain on his bed and kicked off his invisibility cloak. "Hey, Hermione. Talking to me now, are you?"

She scowled and closed the door. "I always talk to you."

"Sure," Harry agreed. "But you've always been in a bad mood when you do. You're not good company when you're cranky."

"Well, who is?" she finally replied after a second of fuming.

He inclined his head towards her. "Touche."

She cleared her throat and sat beside him on his bed. "There's a lot of rumors spreading around that Ron and I are a couple."

If he had been drinking something, he would have choked. He gaped at her. "Are you?"

She glared. "I thought you knew me better than that. Merlin _no_! I barely tolerate Ron as it is. Do you remember what he said about me in our first year? He can be such an arse."

"How did these rumors start? Is there a reason that they think think that—"

Hermione ignored him. "In your time or your memories or whatever, am I with someone, Harry?"

"Am I allowed to tell you this?" Harry asked.

"I don't see why not. If you're afraid of changing the future, you must realize we're changing it already."

Even when she was fifteen, Hermione still had a better argument than he did. He shrugged and answered: "Yeah. You're with Viktor."

No surprise crossed her face. "Am I happy?"

He swallowed uncomfortably. "Well, I like to think so..."

"Am I happy?" she repeated firmly.

He shrugged helplessly. "I wouldn't know, Hermione. We don't talk much."

She frowned. "Oh...Why are you with Ginny?"

He was surprised that she was so willing to talk about it. Any mention of Ginny the past couple of days, Hermione would scowl at everything and everybody and her wand would shoot off red sparks.

"Well, it just seemed right. She was my best mate's little sister and everybody was pushing for it. So, we got together. Ginny was happy about it, Ron was cool with it, and Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic. Ginny's grown a lot. We have things in common...We both like quidditch for example...and...we're both magical."

She snorted. "That's a big list." 

"You never answered my question," Harry reminded. "Why do people think you're dating Ron?"

She rolled her eyes, a look of disgust on her face. "Because we keep sneaking in the boy's room at the same time to see you. People reckon we've gone all the—well, you _know_. That we've had sex..." She stuck her finger down her throat and fake gagged.

"If people keep thinking that, why are you in here?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't that just fuel the fire?"

"Nobody saw me sneak in. Anyway, I want to test something."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you want to test?"

"Do you really fancy Ginny?"

Harry thought about it. He would be very sad if anything happened to Ginny. He didn't like to think of things happening to her. But did he _fancy _her? Did he date her because he genuinely wanted to, or because it was expected?

"...I don't know."

Hermione looked at him, the skin between her eyebrows crinkling in thought. She leaned forwards him and kissed Harry swiftly. Harry stared at her, shocked. Hermione's cheeks flushed.

"I—I—what—I—I don't even—RAPE!" Harry scuttled backwards, bumping into the headboard.

"I've been thinking about how irrational my behaviour was about you dating Ginny. I didn't know what caused it and why I was acting that way, I just knew I was extremely angry about the thought of you with Ginny in any way, shape, or form. Then, I realized, I was jealous. I was jealous of even the thought of her looking at you! I'm friends with Ginny, and she _is _a good friend, but I don't want my good friend looking at you like that. I know she always has, but it was different. She was more enamored, infatuated, whatever you want to call it. But to know that you might return those romantic feelings angered me. I've come to the conclusion that over the years, my liking of you has changed drastically from a sibling relationship to a romantic one."

Harry stared at her. "B-Bu—Whaaaa...?"

She looked at Harry nervously and dropped her business-like tone. "D-Do you feel the same way?"

"I—I—huh—I don't even—huuuh?" 

She flushed furiously. "I know, currently, you're much older than I am, but it would really ease my mind if you would just say that you returned my feelings. Think of me in the future, how do you feel about her?"

Harry was still sputtering and staring at her like she was an alien life form. "I just—I don't—"

Hermione blushed bright and looked down at her hands. "I don't know what I was thinking, really. Of course you wouldn't like me l-like that. You didn't even _want _to talk to me in our first year. Why would you? I was just the stupid know-it-all mudblood with the buckteeth." She stood up. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable." She left quickly, shutting the door behind her quietly.

Harry stared after her. "_W-Whaaa...?_"


	9. Chapter 9

To say Hermione was embarrassed would be an understatement. She was _humiliated_. Harry didn't look at her at all anymore, and whenever she tried to strike up a conversation he would plug his ears with his index fingers and sing some obnoxious American song rather loudly. She swore, if he sang _Oops I did it Again_ one more time, she was going to hit him with a shrinking charm...or a frying pan. Honestly, all these American references were giving her headaches.

Ron, surprisingly, noticed the tension. Surprisingly, because he was dense as _hell_. He trailed her around like a lost puppy, repeating, "What happened?" over and over again until she finally caved and told him what happened. He laughed—loudly. He fell on his arse in the middle of the corridor, his pale face taking on the color of a tomato. He pounded his fist against the floor and guffawed.

"Y-You tr-tried to s-seduce Harry! You!" He rolled over onto his stomach and kicked his feet into the air. "Oh Merlin, I can't breath! Jesus, someone get me an inhaler!"

Hermione, stood, fuming. "Well, he was pretty clear that he didn't reciprocate the feelings."

That was when Draco Malfoy cut into the conversation. His two bodyguards who aren't important enough as to where I should look up there names because I can't remember them, following close behind.

"What's this, Granger?" he drawled in that arsehole tone of his. Merlin, he was a prat. "Does the little mudblood have a crush?"

Hermione glared at the white haired Slytherin. Honestly, what fifteen-year-old has _white _hair? Isn't that what hair coloring potions are for? He could at least put some blonde it in for Merlin's sake! "It's none of your business, Malfoy!"

Ron stopped laughing long enough to spit out, "Hermione tried to seduce Harry Potter!"

Draco fell on the floor with him, laughing his arse off. "Can you i-imagine it?"

Hermione huffed and hurried off to class, hearing Draco call out to a fellow student, "Hey, kid! Did you hear what hap—"

With her being a prefect, she should have done something to them, but she was too embarrassed. "Stupid, bloody arseholes. Wait until I get a—"

"Ms. Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked. Hermione looked up but before she could apologize for bumping into her, McGonagall asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"Nobody," Hermione answered.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. "Perhaps you should visit Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm fine."

"Well, at least go to your dorm then. I'm sure some rest my do you some good. Oh, and while you're there, could you tell Mr. Potter that the solution to his problem should be here very soon?"

Hermione nodded obediently. When she changed her course in direction, she heard her professor mutter behind her, "Crazy witch."

Hermione scowled. She walked over Ron and Draco, giving them a both a swift kick in their groins, causing their laughter to turn to screams. Draco's bodyguards flocked him like pigeons. Hermione said the password to the Fat Lady and walked into the common room.

Harry was sitting in the chair, his chin tucked into his hand as he stared into space. Hermione blushed furiously and hoped to pass by undetected.

"Hermione!" Harry cried and stood up, only to trip and break his glasses. "Fu—"

"_Oculus reparo,_" was Hermione's automatic response.

Harry stood up and grinned. "Thanks."

Hermione avoided eye contact and walked around him to the stairs. She noted how he was talking to her, but she was still too embarrassed to engage in conversation. She obviously destroyed their friendship—there was no going back when Harry knew how she felt about him. How was he supposed to talk to her when she undressed him with her eyes every time she got a look of him?...Hey, don't look at her like that. Could you blame her? Harry had grown, uh...quite well in the past (next?) few years. It was probably all of the Quidditch, even though, if you think about it, how do you gain muscle from riding a broom? That's like saying you really lost weight being a NASCAR driver.

"Wait!" he called and walked towards her. His long legs gave him an advantage, thinking about those legs made her blush. Damn hormones! Damn hormones to hell! He caught hold of her shoulder and turned her around.

"Yes?" she replied and stared at a corner of one of the tables.

Harry frowned and tried to catch her eye, but being taller than her, he would have to crouch down to meet her gaze. "Can you look at me, Hermione?"

"What are you talking about? I am looking at you," Hermione lied as she switched her gaze to the ceiling. "Heeeey, Harry."

Harry sighed in frustration. "Really, Hermione? Are we going to act like this right now?"

"Act like what?" she asked innocently. The walls had such an interesting texture to them!

"I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, exasperated. Hermione finally looked up, shocked. "About what happened the other day. I didn't think you liked me like that and it was just a surprise when you kissed me—"

Hermione interrupted him, relenting to talk to him. "No, it was my fault. I should have known you wouldn't like me. I didn't think it through properly. Ginny's your girlfriend and you're too loyal to cheat on her. Why would you want to cheat on her, anyway? She's so pretty and athletic and witty whereas I'm not pretty, my hair's frizzy and I nag—a lot. Plus, I ramble too, a lot! I talk entirely too much and I know it's not of anything interesting and why _would_ you like me? I was being stupid—"

She was silenced by a pair of lips pressed to hers. All cliches thrown out the window, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wound her fingers through his messy hair. His left hand cupped her face and his right thumb stroked her hip. She pulled him tighter and fell to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" she yelped. "You're on my hair!"

"You scratched me!" Harry exclaimed. "What do you have growing on your fingers, _talons_?"

"Harry, you're really heavy, get off!"

Hermione pulled her hair out from under Harry's forearm and squirmed, trying to get more comfortable on the floor and with Harry's weight. Harry shifted and Hermione could breathe again. She smiled, but Harry pouted.

"I think I'm bleeding." He prodded his cheek. "Do you see blood?"

She leaned in close and he could smell her hair—it smelled like cinnamon. She kissed his cheek. "Better?"

He glared. "No it's bloody not! This shite stings!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This isn't very romantic."

He scoffed. "Like you like that sappy romance." Hermione beamed, flattered that he knew her so well. "Even though you read those romance novels."

Hermione blushed. "I do not!"

He grinned. "Sure you don't." He leaned down and kissed her again.

Later, they were found on the couch, Harry's arm wrapped around her waist and her head snuggled into his neck.

"Professor McGonagall said she might have the remedy to your aging problem soon," Hermione informed.

Harry smiled. "That's great! It would be nice to start this in the right way."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "The right way?"

"You know, where I'm not from the future and I'm the correct age. Wouldn't that be nice? To be able to kiss me freely without this being considered child molestation?"

He had a point...But for now she didn't care, but instead, leaned up and kissed Harry again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I'm probably rushing this a bit, but I've waited eight chapters for this to happen and I can't wait any longer! I like this couple too much to make them wait to be in lurve. Sorry, I'm a dork. Anyway, hope you liked it. I hope there was enough humor and romance.

If you see any typos, please point them out so I can fix them. Thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

The honeymoon phase. The point in a romantic relationship in which two said persons are in a dreamy state, completely obsessed with one another and don't notice anybody else. Basically, it was second day of their relationship, and Harry and Hermione were being nauseatingly romantic.

Being Harry's best mate, Ron had the privilege of watching is _other _best mate cuddle into the Boy-Who-Lived's side. Or butterfly kiss him. Or speak to him in that high pitched baby voice. Ron wanted to vomit.

"No, _you're _cuter—"

Ron yanked at his hair in frustration. "You're both bloody adorable! Now will you _shut up_?"

Hermione and Harry looked over in confusion. They searched the room until their baffled gazes landed on one another.

"Did you hear something?" Harry questioned.

Hermione scrunched her face up in concentration. She tilted her head to the side as if that would make her hear better. "I thought I heard something, too..."

Harry shrugged and pulled Hermione close. "Probably just our imagination."

Hermione nodded. "Paranoia, yes. You know nobody is supposed to know you're here, so our minds are playing tricks on ourselves to keep us aware."

That was when they shrugged and dropped the matter, instead exploring the idea of a snogging session. Ron groaned as he two mates went at it. He threw his arm over his eyes and yelled, "You've got to be kidding me!"

They pulled apart. "There it was again," Hermione said.

"Who cares?" Harry muttered. Hermione decided to go with it and pushed Harry down onto his bed.

"That's it! I'm leaving!" Ron yelled. They ignored him. Ron grumbled as he slammed the door shut and stomped down the stairs.

"Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall questioned.

Ron's head snapped up. "Oh, uh, hello, Professor McGonagall."

"Is everything all right?"

"No," Ron answered truthfully. "But lets not worry about me. Is there something wrong, Professor?"

She shook her head. "Actually, something right. Is Mr. Potter up in his room? I would like to deliver him the good news."

Ron blinked as what she said sunk in. "No!" he yelled. She jumped back before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You _do not _want to go up there."

"And why not?"

Ron chewed on his lip before saying, "Well, uh, Neville puked this morning—you know how nervous he gets—and it's a real big mess up there. Nobody really wants to clean it up, you see—"

"Why not use a charm?" she questioned.

Ron stomped his foot. "Stop finding holes in my story, dammit! Just, uh, tell me the good news and I'll pass it on to Harry, yeah?"

Finding nothing at fault, McGonagall told him and Ron tripped up the stairs in excitement. "Harry, Harry!" Ron yelled as he opened the door. The couple broke apart and looked up in alarm. "Snape fixed up a potion to return your age and memories."

Later, the trio found themselves in the hospital wing. Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes, sobbing their eyes out. Ron celebrated in the corner, knowing Harry at fifteen was completely oblivious to any girl that wasn't Cho Chang. There would be no Harry and Hermione. Therefore, no nausea for Ron.

Hermione clung to Harry melodramatically as Harry drank the potion, and Harry promptly passed out. Hermione fell with him, bumped her head, and was knocked unconscious as well. Ron, helped the two into _separate_ beds and all was right in the world.

Harry woke up a day later, head over heels in love with Cho and a good two inches shorter, five pounds lighter and a lot denser.

Ron recounted the details of the last week and Harry promptly locked himself up in their room, allowing no one access, where he found the a charm to do that was beyond Ron. But then Hermione found the counter charm, opened the door, and pounced on him.

Harry stared up at her in a daze, his glasses askew and his hair...well, his hair was always messy, their was no need to comment on that. "Did you just kiss me?"

Ron was tempted to shout out no—he had followed Hermione up there, hoping to stop her—but Hermione already answered yes and shoved Ron out of the room so she could explain everything.

No, all was _not _right with the world. Harry and Hermione got together, Harry throwing away any thoughts of Cho Chang and they were back into the Honeymoon phase.

Ron sat on the sidelines as Hermione rubbed her nose against Harry's. "No, _you're _cuter—"

"Oh bloody hell!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I know I wrapped that up rather fast, but I quickly lost interest in this story, and don't really feel like dragging this out any longer than it has to be. Thanks for reading. :)


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